


Some Kind of Magic

by JudeAraya



Series: Winter Cherry Blossoms [3]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M, Rimming, but totally consentual, half super smut, half super sweet, in osaka, japan 2.0, japhan 2.0, rainy day, reference to tipsy sex at the start
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21550549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudeAraya/pseuds/JudeAraya
Summary: He wondered at how memories were made and stored; about the difference between regular memories and the ones that presented themselves in the moment, when he knew he’d remember everything in the clearest detail for the rest of his life.A rainy day in Osaka, and they have all the time in the world to enjoy each other.So they do.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Series: Winter Cherry Blossoms [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1553020
Comments: 24
Kudos: 163





	Some Kind of Magic

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is somehow really sweet and also super smutty? 
> 
> All three stories in this triptych can stand alone but work together to create an arc.
> 
> Also, these boys may have already messed with my headcannon timeline, but who knows where they really are, when they're really there anyway? 
> 
> Lots of thanks to [jestbee](https://jestbee.tumblr.com/) for the beta work :D and to [alittledizzy](https://alittledizzy.tumblr.com/) for all of the encouragment/enabling.
> 
> Also, Winter Cherry Blossoms are a thing! There are festivals and parks for the [fuyuzakura ](https://travel.gaijinpot.com/japan-sightseeing-essentials/cherry-blossoms-japan/winter-cherry-blossoms-in-japan/) trees that bloom as the maple trees turn for fall.

“Think it’ll rain tomorrow?” Dan asked, words sleepy soft, breah warm against Phil’s chest. The rain was a gentle but constant susurration against the windows. They’d planned on sleeping in as long as they could, so Dan had closed the blinds the night before. Phil had almost wanted to ask him not to. They’d been up ridiculously late, and even his intense love for the floor to ceiling windows couldn’t compete with a lie in. Especially when he knew they’d both be hung over. 

Osaka was known for many things, one of which was its nightlife. Neither of them were necessarily nightlife people, but Japan was some sort of magic. It worked into their bones, sinewed under the skin, lit up their hearts. Dan was so beautiful that night, hair gone a little sweaty, eyes bright with alcohol. They’d drunk and flirted shamelessly, publicly. Well, what went for shameless for them. 

Dan had maybe pulled him into a bathroom, giggling breathlessly, and proceeded to kiss Phil until every part of his body was on fire, until he was so hungry he found himself fumbling with the button and zip of Dan’s pants. 

“Slow down, babe,” Dan said, lips a little sloppy and teeth a little rough where he bit Phil’s neck just below his ear. _Oh_ , Phil thought. Dan had pulled away, lips too red, eyes making promises only Phil could read. _Yes_. 

“Yeah, okay,” he said, pulling Dan in for a few more kisses. They’d never take it further than that, in public, in a _bathroom_ , but this was a scorching tease and he was just tipsy enough—maybe a little more than—to stretch that part of the night out. The part where Dan made him crazy, where Dan strung it along, pulled at the crackling tension like taffy, until Phil broke. Until he begged and begged, louder than he ever was. Until he was so out of his head he was nothing more than shimmering waves of sensation and pleasure and frustration at being brought close over and over. 

Which Dan did, that night. Dan teased Phil until he thought he might die. Dan was gentle and then rough, then gentling Phil back from the precipice until neither of them could stand it any more. He was sweet and careful, entering Phil, until he wasn’t, until Phil bossily demanded he “get on with it all ready”, and then it was just them, sweating and grunting, broken moans from them both, his sweet Dan loud and filthy like he almost always was in bed.

~*~

Of course when Dan woke him to the sound of rain and an aching body— _god_ he was too old for this—Phil couldn’t do more than shush him and lightly smack the closest part Dan’s body he could reach. Which was harder said than done, considering he had over six feet of heavy, pliant boy curled around him, now moaning about his headache. 

“Yes, hangover,” Phil mumbled. The inside of his mouth was rank. If socks were sentient, he’d think maybe one rotting one had crawled in overnight. He couldn’t be bothered to move, really, because yes, Dan was heavy and also a little sweaty, but even ass sore, head throbbing, eyes and mouth dry, he was the best thing to wake up to when miserable. Phil closed his eyes and figured the hangover could wait. It was raining and they had nowhere to be until tomorrow. 

He woke again when Dan rolled off of him. Vaguely registering Dan’s whining about sweat and headaches, Phil opted to roll away and bury his face in a pillow. The bathroom door closed with a tiny click, Dan being careful to not wake him. It was too late, but it was sweet. 

The shower started up, tempting Phil to go join him. He was really disgusting now, they’d fallen asleep together without even cleaning up. Phil couldn’t even think about it. His phone told him it was only ten, which _ugh_. Even on in a different time zone, once they’d adjusted to the jet lag, their bodies had tried to go right back to the responsible, healthy sleep pattern they’d trained themselves into back home. Two, five, ten years ago Phil would never consider ten a lie in. Maybe it was just age. He rarely felt old: at thirty two he somehow felt younger than he had years ago. He was so unencumbered now, his life looked and felt so different. Dan’s did. Everything about Dan felt so much lighter. It was the greatest pleasure of Phil’s life, to see Dan get to share the sweet, beautiful, boisterous boy he’d met and fallen for ten years ago with the world. Phil had seen him so often at home, but there was something about Dan living his life more freely that made that brightened Dan, color and sound and affection and desire turned up and up. Dan was now his highest resolution of self and Phil was so helplessly in love it was disgusting. 

In a minute, Phil would get up. He _would_. He’d root out some pills for his headache, join Dan in the shower, and then order a metric ton of greasy breakfast room service. Maybe if he washed Dan’s hair, Dan would wash his. He gave the most delicious head massages, but generally not when they were hung over. 

With superhuman effort he climbed gracelessly out of bed, one foot tangled in the sheet. 

“You all right?” Dan popped his head out of the shower when Phil opened the door. 

“Relatively.” 

“Fall out of bed?” Dan went back to his shower, the glass door too steamed for Phil to get to appreciate Dan’s body. He loved to look at him, appreciated the aesthetic beauty of it. 

“Of course,” Phil said pitching his voice high to be heard over the water, regretting the volume instantly. He rooted around in his toiletry case, finally finding some ibuprofen. “Have you got a bad head?” 

“ _God_ , yes.”

“Open up,” Phil said, pulling the shower door open. Obediently, Dan opened his mouth and Phil dropped two pills on his tongue. Dan washed them down with shower water while Phil stripped. The water was much too hot but he couldn't complain, not when Dan was already rotating him unter the spray and massaging his hair wet. 

“I already did mine,” he said. Phil sort of regretted that, but since his motivations were mostly to get Dan to wash his hair, he couldn’t muster the energy to care too much. He closed his eyes and leaned into the soft pleasure. Dan thumbed shampoo suds from his forehead carefully, mindful of Phil’s eyes. 

“Tip back now love,” Dan said. Phil did, eyes still closed until all of the shampoo had been rinsed. 

“Is it that kind of day, then?” Phil asked. His mouth was still disgusting so he kissed Dan’s shoulder rather than his mouth. Dan wasn’t much for pet names. His affection was in touch, either demanding it or giving it.

“It’s the rain,” Dan said, soaping his own body with some ridiculously expensive, lush body wash he wouldn’t travel without. Self care came in many forms: for Dan, in treating his body, pampering it. Or stupidly expensive clothes. He did always smell delicious though, and it was Dan’s money after all. Phil could never be bothered over the price of soap or lotion or a sweater, really. Anything that made Dan happy made Phil happy. 

“Why?” Phil was ‘helping’, running his hands over Dan’s back and ass and back up to cup his shoulder blades, kissing Dan’s chin and collarbone and ear. Dan turned around so Phil could work on the tense muscles of his shoulders and neck. Dan carried headaches there, when he got them. 

“Because we have an excuse to be lazy and stay in bed as long as we want before tomorrow.” 

Tomorrow was a travel day, back to Tokyo, and then up to Jomine Park to see the winter cherry blossoms. Phil was ridiculously excited for this particular leg of their trip. He’d thought of the picture Dan gave him when he surprised Phil with tickets to Japan. How they’d stolen a kiss amongst the cherry blossoms four years ago. When that kiss had been daring and also kind of dangerous and so, so lovely because Dan had loved him more than his fear in that moment. 

This, though, would be even better. They were going alone. They were out, in their way. They weren’t the kind to be terribly affectionate in public regardless, but it was different. Everything was different this time. A kiss under a cherry blossom would be lovely without the worry. It would be a different sort of promise. 

Dan moaned when Phil found a particularly tight muscle in his neck, swayed forward dangerously until Phil shuffled him under the water, hands braced against the wall so his head wasn’t under it. Phil turned the temperature of the water up a bit more. He added more soap to his palms, knowing it would wash away quickly, with the water raining gently on Dan’s back. Working his hands up and down Dan’s spine, thumbs pressing in and kneading Dan into a pliant mess of relaxation was worth the price of an entire bottle of Dan’s stupidly expensive body wash. 

“Want me to do you?” Dan said after a while. 

“No.” Phil kissed Dan’s shoulder, hands wandering back to cup Dan’s ass. 

“Really?” Dan shifted, bracing himself against the wall differently, legs spread a little. Phil’s head and body still ached, but the hot water and Dan and the pills were helping. He was hungry, yes, but also, _Dan_. Phil dragged his thumb, slowly and with intent, down Dan’s crack until it brushed over his hole. Dan’s exhale was loud enough to be heard over the rush of water. Phil squeezed a little of his own body wash, a more sensible and mild one, into his hand and spread Dan’s cheeks a little. 

“Gonna clean you up,” he said, low but a little assertive. Dan didn’t always want to be told what to do—neither did Phil—but Phil knew when Dan was receptive to it. 

“All right,” Dan said. Whimpered, really, arching into Phil’s touch already. 

“Clean you up and then kiss you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

“Just kisses?” Dan said, louder now. Phil pressed his thumb against Dan’s rim, firmly but not enough to really breach him. He wanted Dan as open and pliant as he could get. Phil didn’t answer because they both knew what Phil really meant. “In here?” 

While there was some appeal to the idea of eating Dan out, of shameless shower sex that made for a great fantasy. But Phil wanted to take his time with Dan, and he was not about kneeling on hard tile for that. 

“No.” Phil continued to massage Dan slowly, thumb pressing a little more insistently. He didn’t mind kneeling for a little bit, to tease a little. He bit Dan’s asscheek, right where it met his thigh. Used both hands to spread him a little more. Water ran down Dan’s back, spraying into Phil’s face. That was okay then, because Phil could close his eyes, lick Dan’s hole in little flutters, suck kisses over him. Bite a more. He knew Dan’s body, had mapped it and committed every bit of him to memory. He didn’t need to see or even think to know what Dan liked, and how he wanted it. 

“ _Phil,_ ” Dan whimpered. “You’ll wreck your kn— _oh, fuck_ ,” he cried out when Phil tongued him with more intent, breaching his rim slightly. 

“Yes,” Phil said, wincing and he stood. He was, in fact, going to wreck them if he went much longer. “Let’s get out of here.” 

“Okay,” Dan said. He didn’t move for a long moment. Phil watched his ribs shift with each deep breath he took, calming himself down.

They dried off in silence, then brushed their teeth in a familiar rhythm, a choreography of rinsing and spitting that they’d perfected over the years. Phil watched Dan slowly moisturize. Dan helped him when it was his turn, rubbing slow, careful hands over Phil’s arms and shoulders. He took each of Phil’s hands in his, threading fingers through them, massaging his palms. Innocent touches that Phil felt down to his toes. Dan’s eyelashes were clumped, still wet, curls dripping. Dan’s face had changed in ten years, settling into an adult body, but his eyes never did: their warmth, how they could pierce right into him. Dan’s eyes spoke volumes. Phil knew this was one of the things about Dan that made him so charismatic, that translated so well on camera. Phil was the only one who got to know what it was like to have them focused solely on him. 

“You hungry?” He asked after giving Dan a flutter of a kiss. 

“Starving,” Dan replied. They’d both calmed a little, after the shower. Dan was still half hard, brought from the edge to a simmering kind of want. They had a whole day of nothing but each other. It could wait. 

They tucked into what Dan called “a classic hangover breakfast,” talking through their plans for the remainder of their trip. 

“Will it be raining tomorrow?” Phil asked. Dan was flat on his back on the bed, hand over his stomach, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram on his phone. 

“Weather report seemed okay,” Dan said absently. Phil piled their plates and condiments on the tray. “Careful with that.” Dan hadn’t taken his eye off his phone. The plates wobbled a bit. Getting the door open with the tray so he could leave it out to be picked up was a challenge, but ultimately he managed not to break or spill anything.

Phil had bundled himself in a robe. Briefly, he considered an instagram story rating this particular hotel robe a five star experience. Soft and plush and warm, He was hard pressed to take it off. Dan was in his pants only, one arm tucked under his head. Phil watched him for a moment. The curtains were open now; the city view was grey and soft with rain. The single light they had on cast shadows over Dan’s stomach and legs. 

“Well?” Dan tossed his phone aside and turned toward him. “Are you going to stare at me all day or finish what you started?” 

“Demanding,” Phil said, one eybrow raised, a reminder of what they’d started, and who was in charge at the moment. 

Dan lowered his eyes, a smile playing at his lips. He stretched his arms over his head. He was hard now, cock a lovely bulge in his navy pants. 

“Better,” Phil said, shucking the robe and climbing onto the bed. Dan raised his hips, helping Phil roll his pants off. Phil spread Dan’s legs, only enough to suck a biting kiss on each thigh. They’d learned early on how much they enjoyed marking each other. At first, especially for Dan, it had been a reminder, a small gift to carry home. Dan admitted to pressing down on the bruises. Not just when he got off but also when he felt lonely for Phil, when he needed reassurance he wasn’t alone. They’d learned in those early months how to mark each other where no one could see. The insides of Dan’s thighs were a pale, inviting canvas, so sensitive to Phil’s teeth and mouth. Dan told him at some point that it hurt, then had to insist Phil not stop because it was a good kind of hurting. 

Dan spread his legs more. Phil tapped his leg; not quite a spanking sort of gesture, but a reminder that Phil was driving. Dan whimpered out a _please_ and then a _thank you_ when Phil sucked _hard_ , arching into the sensation. 

“Turn over now,” Phil spoke against the now damp skin of Dan’s hipbone, where he’d been lingering, running kisses across his lower belly, under his belly button to the other hip bone. 

Dan did, no comment, no begging, just the pliancy of putting everything into Phil’s hands. He let Phil push his legs as wide as they could. Let Phil massage his ass and lower back and shoulders. Didn’t squirm against the kisses and love bites Phil left all over. He did whimper when Phil licked from the top of his crack and over his sacrum. Dan was so, so sensitive there. Phil wasn’t at all; Dan had told him once how it felt, like a tingling pleasure radiating all through the nerves of his pelvis, a waking up of his body that was its own unique sensation. 

“Up,” Phil said, pulling on Dan’s hips a little. Dan complied, head still pillowed on his arms but ass in the air. Phil made him keep his legs spread wide. It was a challenge for Dan, to see how long he could hold still and be good for him like this, on the edge of discomfort. 

They didn’t do this often, honestly. Phil loved it like that, like eating Dan out was a delicious treat, a reward, an anticipation that was all the better for when they did take the time and space for it. They’d always had a healthy and varied sex life, even if there were a few years when they were too exhausted or busy to take a lot of time for it. Project Sphere meant a lot of things, including taking deliberate, conscious time for each other, romantically and physically. Not that they were necessarily mutually exclusive. 

“Phil, please,” Dan breathed.  
“Sorry,” Phil said. He’d been staring, appreciating the dip of Dan’s spine and the way he just let Phil arrange him, completely trusting and soft. Phil reached for the lube they’d left haphazardly on the nightstand the night before. He wouldn’t need it yet—he might not need it at all—but he wasn’t about to fumble around for it in the middle of anything. 

“Here you go,” Phil said softly, running his fingers down to Dan’s rim, a tease of a touch. Dan exhaled but kept himself still. Phil settled himself between Dan’s knees, a little clumsy, but Dan didn’t complain, didn’t laugh the way he might usually, calling Phil some dumb name with affection and desire. 

Phil took his time about it, starting slow and teasing, listening to Dan’s hitching breath as he tried to keep himself silent and still. He tried to switch things up, to avoid a settled patterns, alternating massaging Dan’s spit slicked hole with his thumbs while he just looked, watching the slight contracting and expanding. He sucked kisses with increased intensity before backing off with fluttering licks. Dan softened and softened under his ministrations. After a bit, he couldn’t help but shift; Phil could tell the strain on his hips was becoming uncomfortable, so he pulled him up higher, let Dan get his knees under himself. When he thumbed at Dan’s hole next, he was so soft and hungry it pulled him in. Phil pushed, gentle and slow, finger disappearing into Dan by increments. Dan’s breathing was edging toward whimpers. Phil loved how hard he was trying to be quiet. He also knew it wouldn’t be much longer before Dan would break. He couldn’t wait to break him. Dan had done it to him the night before so skillfully, even tipsy and laughter soaked. 

“ _Phil, please_ ,” Dan said, broken and high and breathy. Phil pulled his thumb out, but before Dan could beg again, replaced it with his tongue, slowly fucking it in. The more he worked Dan’s body, fingernails now digging into the soft flesh of his ass, the tauter Dan’s body coiled. He knew that if he got a hand on Dan’s cock now, he’d come. 

The thing was though, that Dan could come untouched. Phil could probably count on two hands the number of times it had happened, but they had hours with nothing to do and Phil did love a challenge. 

Spit dripped down Dan’s crack.When Phil’s mouth tired he simply replaced it with one finger, and then easily, two. Dan was shifting now, fucking himself slightly into the touch. Phin knew he didn’t realize he was doing it. Dan’s body sought pleasure like this, when he’d gotten out of his head and just let go. Phil didn’t tell him to stop, didn’t want to make Dan think anymore. He curled his fingers, watching for the moment he would find Dan’s prostate. 

Dan wasn’t quiet then. “There, there, _fuck_ , please don’t stop, I-”

“I won’t,” Phil said, soothing him with one hand up the curve of his spine. He worked his fingers in small pulses. Dan tensed and relaxed and tensed again; Phil read the squeezing easily, knowing when to just press and when to massage. With his first and middle fingers in Dan, he was able to use his thumb, to press up on Dan’s perineum, coming at him from two pleasure points. 

“ _Shit, shit, shit_ , oh god, Phil I’m-” Dan’s whole body was tensing, body clamped around his fingers. His cries were loud and messy. 

“Too much?” Phil asked, because he knew it could be for Dan. 

“No, no,” Dan rocked back against him, “if you stop I’ll die.” 

Phil laughed and massaged with a firmer touch. 

“Can I touch myself?” Dan moaned. 

“No,” Phil said, leaning over to kiss the small of Dan’s back. “Can you try for me, do you think?” 

Dan’s answer was a rather loud, broken whimper. “Fuck me with them then, hard.” 

And so Phil did. Coordinating it without moving his thumb was a little challenging, so he brought his other hand into play, which still awkward for Phil but it worked for Dan. Phil wasn’t gentle then, spit drying making his skin catch with each thrust. 

“Lube?” he checked in. 

“No, _nonono_.” Dan was so close, he didn’t even have to say it, because Phil knew exactly what Dan looked like when he was on the precipice. He bent, managing to contort with impressive coordination for himself, and licked Dan’s sacrum, then sucked at it, hard. Dan came with a muffled moan; he was biting into a pillow, jerky thrusts onto Phil’s fingers, coming and coming for an impressively long time. Dan’s body slowed, but Phil kept moving, kept working him through aftershocks until Dan was squirming through the too-much, over sensitive sensation. Phil stopped, but kept his fingers where they were, deep in Dan. He was breathless with his own desire, cock leaking a remarkable amount. There was something so painfully beautiful about Dan like this, about them together like this, he didn’t want the moment to end. 

Eventually Dan’s shuddering breaths evened, and he pulled away, rolling over to avoid the come-stained sheets. “Shoulda put a towel down,” he slurred. His face was a bright red, his lips swollen from biting them to keep quiet. His eyes were heavy and warm and steady on Phil. “C’mere.” He held his arms out for Phil, drawing him onto his body. He pressed down on the small of Phil’s back, encouraging him to press his cock against his belly. 

“Lube,” Phil gasped. He let Dan fumble for it, lost in his smell, redolent behind his ear and down his neck. It was a little sweat and some lingering scent of his soap, two of his favorite smells all at once. He pressed his cock desperately against Dan. He wasn’t thrusting really, not until Dan got a sloppy hand between them, smeared on his belly and along Phil’s erection. As soon as he did, he set up a fast pace, orgasm so, so close. 

“No,” Dan whispered, both hands on Phil’s back now. “Slow, I want to feel you.” He encouraged Phil to put his full weight on him. “I need you.” 

Phil groaned, but then slowed. Dan was trembling; he sometimes did after he came, full body shivering he couldn’t stop. Phil knew how Dan needed to be grounded, to be cared for in these moments. And all of this had been for Dan, really. Maybe a little bit, selfishly, for Phil, because he loved every minute of reducing Dan to this. He could hold off a little longer, for Dan. 

Dan had used so much lube, too much maybe, enough that there was almost no catch between their bodies. Phil was sweating with the slow, controlled effort, undulating, rubbing himself over Dan. Maybe hours, maybe minutes later, when his breath was hitching and his body was so tight it hurt, Dan pulled him close, hard, hands on his ass and whispered, “It’s okay, you can come.” 

And so Phil did, biting down on Dan’s collarbone to muffle himself. He rode it out like Dan had, for a surprisingly long orgasm. After, Dan let him lay, catching his breath, absently kissing Dan’s neck where his face rested. He didn’t want to move and so he didn’t until Dan protested. Phil slumped off of Dan. 

“Ew,” he cried. “Right into the wet spot.” 

“Not my problem mate,” Dan said, half asleep, deep breaths that signaled he was near sleep. “I suffer, you suffer.”

Phil had already woken up once a mess, he wasn’t about to again. He rolled off the bed, trying not to disturb Dan, and used a washcloth to clean himself off. He ran another under the tap, making sure it was warm, and came over to clean Dan up. Dan smiled, eyes fluttering open for a moment, and let him. Phil wiped up what he could of the come on the bed before draping a towel over it. Dan was asleep by then, flat on his back. Phil tugged the covers from under his legs with some difficulty, and then tucked himself up against Dan. Dan wrapped an arm around him, pulling Phil close even in sleep. Holding each other in bed was a reflex, ten years of habit in small moments. 

~*~

Phil woke a few hours later, stomach rumbling and Dan’s fingers in his hair. “Food?” he managed. Dan laughed lightly. “Of course, we can call down in a minute.” Phil’s head was on Dan’s lap; Dan was once again scrolling on his phone. When Phil pulled away to stretch, Dan scooted down to put his head on Phil’s pillow next to him. He held the phone up over them.  
“The weather will be good,” he said. “Look,” he said, voice so soft and sweet, the one fans rarely got to hear. Photos of the maple trees in brilliant red and cherry blossoms in their beautiful amaranth pink from a viewing platform in the park they’d be visiting tomorrow. The brilliance of their delicate coloring when the park was lit up at night. Phil rolled over to kiss Dan’s cheek and shoulder. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

“For showing you pictures?” Dan set the phone down and rolled over too. Phil mourned the loss of Dan’s warmth for only a second before Dan was drawing a finger gently over his mouth, tracing it over and then again. 

“For the present. For Japan.” 

Phil closed his eyes. He thought of Dan at eighteen, nervy and bold and unpredictable in his bed in Manchester. Even young he’d been jaded about sex until he’d met Phil. Their first time, late one November night, had been a mess of nerves and lube and the learning curve of new bodies. After, Dan had burrowed into Phil and whispered _thank you, thank you, thank you_ over and over, so softly Phil wondered if he was even meant to hear it. Later he’d told Phil he’d never known sex could be like that, and Phil had said something ridiculously cheesy. It was a perfect sense memory, a moment when he’d so clearly known he wouldn’t forget it, ever. 

He felt that from time to time. He wondered at how memories were made and stored; about the difference between regular memories and the ones that presented themselves in the moment, when he knew he’d remember everything in the clearest detail for the rest of his life. 

The those handfuls were always Dan. They were the moments when Phil was the most grateful, the most awed by the turns his life had taken to give him this. 

“You’re welcome,” Dan said. “Love you.” 

Phil kissed Dan softly, recording this perfect moment, this beautiful man, this wonderful, turbulent, fulfilling and unbelievable life they’d made together.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, I would object to a [reblog](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/189275602612/fic-some-kind-of-magic-phan/)!


End file.
